


Hot Shot

by LadyCleganeofTheNorth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Dates, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 20:53:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15714885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCleganeofTheNorth/pseuds/LadyCleganeofTheNorth
Summary: Sandor takes Sansa on a first date.  I’m not terribly original with my summaries but that about covers it.





	Hot Shot

Looking in her bathroom mirror, Sansa couldn't quite figure out how it was that she was presently getting ready to go out on a date with Sandor Clegane, former Lannister dog and guard of her ex-boyfriend, Joffrey Baratheon.  She quickly pulled her auburn locks back in a neat ponytail as she heard three sharp raps at her apartment door. “Ever the cop,” she mused to herself, as she hurried to the door to let Sandor in, hurrying to gather her purse and faded blue Cubs ball cap.

“Ready to go, Little Bird?” Sandor asked, allowing his gaze to linger over her body. 

She immediately took note of the way his chest and biceps filled out his black tee shirt that he had neatly tucked into his dark washed jeans.  Trying not to be obvious in her own appraisal, Sansa replied, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Let’s go then.” 

When they got to Sandor’s black pickup, he opened the door and helped her climb in before rounding the front and hauling himself up behind the wheel.  He gave a brief glance in Sansa’s direction before firing up the truck’s engine.

As soon as the truck roared to life, they heard Five Finger Death Punch thrashing through the speakers.  

“Shit, sorry,” Sandor cursed as he jumped to turn the radio off.

“That was ‘Jekyll and Hyde’ right?  Good song,” Sansa replied, “you don’t have to turn it off you know. 

“You know them?” Sandor asked, surprised.

Rolling her eyes, “Of course I do!” she replied, with a grin as he turned the volume back up. 

“So, where exactly are we going?” she asked, as she looked out the window watching the landscape change as they left the city limits. 

Sandor had previously instructed her to wear casual clothes and a ball cap but he had provided no other information to indicate where this date would be taking place. 

“You, Little Bird, are going to learn to shoot today.” 

“Shoot?  Like a gun,” Sansa asked, somewhat confused. 

Sandor gave a sideways look, pulling his eyebrow down in a slight scowl. “What else would you expect me to teach you to shoot?”

After the veil of confusion lifted, Sansa realized that she shouldn't have been surprised that Sandor would choose to take her to a shooting range on their first date.   

In the time that they had known each other, they had somehow come to establish an easy friendship. Early on, he told her how he received his scars as a child at the hands of his elder brother, Gregor. 

It was this experience that had been the impetus that pushed him to pursue a career in law enforcement; a career that was apparently not meant to be, having been cut short by a line of duty injury.  Having been shot in the leg serving a search warrant on a drug house, he now had a permanent limp thanks to a shattered femur. He had been lucky to survive and it took a prolonged stay at the Quiet Isle Rehab Center before he was physically and mentally ready to be able to work, though never again as a police officer due to the damage to his leg. 

It was after his retirement from the police force that he had been contracted by the politically connected Lannister family to provide security for their heir, Joffrey Baratheon.  It was during this time that Sansa first became acquainted with the surly bodyguard. 

“Sansa.” 

“Sansa!”

She was roused from her musings by Sandor’s deep voice rumbling her name beside her. 

Sandor rolled his eyes as she asked “What?” 

“We need to go over some things before we get to Bronn’s place. Safety things. I’ll keep you safe Little Bird, but I do need to know you can keep yourself safe,” he said, as he glanced over at her to make sure she was paying attention.

It was then that she threw him a sloppy salute while exclaiming, “Yes sir!”

Rolling his eyes again, “How many fucking times do we have to go over this?  Knock it off with the sir shit,” he rasped.

Giggling quietly Sansa murmured to herself, “Yes, sir.” 

Sandor huffed out an exasperated breath but decided to ignore her sass and continued on with what Sansa decided was his pre-range briefing.  “There are four rules I need you to remember at all fucking times. Before we even get the pistols out, got it?”

Sansa grew more serious then and nodded in response.

“Ok, these are pretty fucking simple. First, every gun is loaded.  Even if you think it’s not, treat it like it is. Second, don’t point any gun at anything you aren’t prepared to shoot.”  He glanced in her direction and satisfied that she was still listening, continued, “The third rule you need to remember is keep your finger off the trigger until you have decided to fire.  And last, but not least, be sure of your target and beyond. Simple right?”

“Every gun is loaded.  Don’t point it anything I don't want to shoot. Finger off the trigger until I’m ready to shoot.  Know my target and what’s beyond. As you said, pretty fucking simple,” she threw an impudent wink in his direction as she rattled off the rules, rapid fire. 

Sandor chuckled quietly as he pulled into Blackwater Pistol and Rifle Range.  “Here we are,” he said. “This is Bronn’s place and it’s officially closed today so there won’t be an audience for you to worry about.” 

Sansa nodded, suddenly feeling self conscious about being under his tutelage.  She sat quietly, considering how the day was going to go, startling when Sandor opened her door, offering a hand to help her out.  She took his warm hand knowing he was going to feel the clamminess of her own.

Expecting him to mock her sweaty hands, Sansa was surprised when he lifted his other hand to her cheek and with a small smile “Don’t be nervous,” he reassured her, lightly squeezing her hand before letting go to gather his range bag from the back seat of the truck. 

Taking her hand in his again, he lead her out onto the range.  “Welcome to the ten yard line, Little Bird.” 

They stopped at a small wooden bench standing at waist height and Sandor began to sort through his bag; paper targets, staple gun, bullets, pistols.  Sansa simply watched as Sandor went down range with targets and his staple gun, not knowing what to do and feeling utterly useless. 

When he returned to her, Sandor began to ready guns and bullets, ear protection and safety glasses.  Sansa immediately put on the glasses and earmuffs that he offered her but he gave her a queer look and said something she didn't quite catch. Shaking his head with smirk pulling at his lips, he pulled one of the ear cups away and said, “you don’t need to wear these quite fucking yet.” Sansa blushed and quickly removed them from her head, placing them back on the bench. 

Sandor began to show her the guns that he had laid out before them.  “These guns are pistols. These pistols happen to be Glocks. Glocks are simple and reliable.”  As he spoke he demonstrated to Sansa the proper was way to grip the firearm explaining, “Without a firm grip, you risk the gun jamming.” 

Handing the firearm over to Sansa, he examined her grip and made small adjustments explaining all the while why it was important.  Satisfied with her grip on the gun, he took it back to her and again double checked that the gun was safe and empty. Returning it to her, Sandor asked her repeat the steps he had just taken to check the gun. 

“The first thing I want you to do is fire the gun, empty.  I want you to see how it feels to pull the trigger so point the gun down range and let ‘er rip,” Sandor said as he was fishing around for something in his pocket. 

Despite knowing the gun was empty, Sansa flinched as the firing mechanism clicked uselessly.  Sandor showed her how to cycle the empty gun and then showed her the quarry he had dug from his pocket: a penny. 

“Point the gun down range, Little Bird, but don’t pull the trigger yet.”  Once she had the gun aimed at the target in from of them, Sandor carefully balanced the penny on the front of the gun and instructed her to again pull the trigger.  Once again, Sansa flinched and heard the penny fall to the bench. 

“It should be a surprise, when the shot goes off,” Sandor said as he took the gun from her and took up the same position she had held.  “Put the penny on the barrel, Little Bird.” 

Balancing the penny as instructed, Sansa stepped back and watched as Sandor pulled the trigger.  She heard the firing pin click in the empty pistol and saw the penny remain in place. Sandor explained, “Anticipating the bang will make you flinch.  Flinching will make the muzzle drop. Don’t think about it, the gun won’t hurt you. I promise.”

Sandor handed the pistol back to her and told her to keep practicing while he turned toward loading magazines. 

Once he was satisfied that Sansa was no longer flinching, Sandor decided it was time to do some actual shooting. 

“You can put that ear protection on now,” he said, with a wink, while he adjusted his grubby green ball cap and put his own in place.

Sansa stuck her tongue out at him but did as he instructed.  Picking up the pistol, she pointed it down range and loaded it as Sandor talked her through the process.  Nervously, she set the gun down on the bench and rubbed her hands on her jeans, desperate to be rid of the sweat, fearful that she would drop the gun. 

She felt Sandor step behind and place his large hands on her shoulders as he gave them a light squeeze. “Just relax and concentrate on your front sight, nothing else.  And let it surprise you,” he said.

Sansa looked over her shoulder at him and saw his eyes crinkle as he gave her an encouraging smile.  Nodding resolutely to herself, Sansa picked up the pistol and pointed it down range.

The report of the gunshot rang in Sansa’s ears despite the protection she wore.  Thankful she maintained her hold on the pistol, she looked, wide-eyed, at Sandor who was standing next to her with a look on his face that she could only describe as proud. Of her. 

“You hit the target Little Bird. Was that worth you worrying your pretty little head over?” 

She had to admit that no, it was not and she told him as much. 

Nodding, Sandor had her shoot the rest of the rounds still loaded in the magazine.

Having lost count, and not paying attention to the slide locking back, Sansa squeezed the trigger and felt the click, groaning as she and Sandor both watched the muzzle of the gun drop visibly.  “You’re flinching again,” he said, smirking at her. 

Sansa huffed at that and set the gun down as they both removed their ear protection and he continued to load another magazine, chuckling quietly. 

“Thank you for bringing me here.  I know it’s something that you enjoy,” Sansa said as Sandor looked up from what he was doing. 

“No, I’m the one who should be thanking you… just for coming with me,” he quietly said, as he set down the now full magazine, “Ready for another round?” 

Sansa took up the gun again and made ready, firing two rounds in quick succession.  Making sure her aim was true, Sansa fired the last of the bullets while Sandor bent down to rummage through his range bag that he had set on the ground nearby. 

As she fired the final round, Sansa was startled by a loud growl quickly followed by one of the more colorful strings of curses she had ever hear spew forth from Sandor’s mouth.

“Godfuckingdammit!” 

“Sonofafuckingwhore!”

Sansa set the gun down on the shooting bench and turned to look at Sandor with wide eyes.  As she watched him jump around, her eyes got even bigger as he ripped his neatly tucked shirt tail out of his pants, baring a well muscled chest and abdomen covered by a pelt of dark hair.  He began frantically fumbling with his belt buckle and Sansa’s mouth dropped open as he shoved his hand down the front of his pants. 

“Sandor? Whatcha lookin’ for down there?” Sansa asked, feeling a blush creep over her face as she considered just what else might be in his pants, besides his hand. 

At the sound of her voice, Sandor snapped back to reality and stood, staring at her, seemingly frozen, his shirt held up with one hand and the other down the front of his trousers.  His face took on a flush to match hers as he yanked his hand from his pants and quickly dropped his shirt. 

“Fucking bastard went down my shirt and got wedged in my goddam waistband,” he explained, showing her the spent casing he had retrieved from his pants.  “Fucking things are hot!” he growled. “I think I’m going to have a blister there now,” he huffed. 

Sansa audibly snapped her mouth shut and was blinking her eyes back to reality as she listened to his explanation for his outburst.  She heard his words but was unable to get the image of his bare abdomen out of her mind. 

“Umm, maybe we should call it day?  I’m getting a little hungry and you…” she trailed off not knowing exactly what she was suddenly hungry for. 

Agreeing, Sandor began to pack their small mess back into his range bag.  As they walked back to the truck, Sansa could feel him looking at her sideways and was surprised by the butterflies she suddenly felt in her belly. 

Back behind the wheel Sansa watched Sandor rub the back of his neck, a quirk she knew meant he was uncertain about something, as he turned to look at her.

“Do you want me to take you back to your apartment now?  I know this probably wasn’t your idea of a great first date. I’m sorry,” he said. 

“Don’t be silly, I want you to want to share things like this with me.  I really am hungry though,” she said as her stomach growled loudly. “Would you like to have dinner with me?  I know a good pizza place on our way back to the city. My treat.”

“Sounds good to me Little Bird, but you're going to need to navigate,” he said as they pulled out of the range parking lot.

A companionable silence settled over the two of them in the truck as the rumbled down the highway back to King’s Landing.  Once they arrived back in the city, Sansa gave Sandor directions until they pulled into Hot Pies Pizza Parlor parking lot.

Raising his eyebrows, “Hot Pies?” Sandor asked.

Sansa smiled back a reply, “Yes, you’ll love it. Trust me. They have the best Hawaiian pizza!” 

Sandor turned to scowl at Sansa, ready with a sharp retort to let her know exactly what he thought about pineapple and pizza, when she suddenly jumped from the truck “Let’s go,” she said, with a wink and grin full of sass. 

Grumbling under his breath, Sandor got out of the truck and met Sansa at the front of the vehicle, raising his eyebrows slightly as she grabbed him by the hand and led him to the restaurant. 

Reluctantly, Sandor told Sansa to order whatever she wanted on their pie and was pleasantly surprised when she ordered cheese and pepperoni.

The pair chatted about everything from Bronn’s range and shooting to what their jobs held in store for them the following week.

Once they finished their pizza, Sandor snatched the bill despite Sansa’s protestations that it was supposed to be her treat, muttering something about chivalry.

Sandor guided her out of the pizza parlor toward his truck with a large, warm hand lightly on her back, “Where to, Little Bird?” he asked. 

Surprised by her reluctance for their eventing to end, Sansa replied, “I should probably go home, I’m meeting my parents for brunch tomorrow,” as she watched Sandor tighten his grip on the steering wheel ever so slightly.

They fell silent as they drove through King’s Landing, back to Sansa’s apartment.

They arrived a short time later and Sandor wheeled his truck into one of the parking spots reserved for visitors and again came around to Sansa’s side and helped her out, neither of them moving to drop the others hand as they walked up to the door.

Sansa unlocked the door and stepped inside, turning toward Sandor, “would you like to come in?”  A blush crept over her face as the image of his bared abdomen suddenly popped into her mind.

“I’d love to, but I won’t.” 

Sansa blushed deeper than she thought possible, embarrassed to think she had been so forward that she barely heard him continue. 

“Not tonight.”

Sansa felt the butterflies from earlier in the day return as Sandor reached out and gently ran the back of his fingers down her cheek, tipping her chin up to his face and leaning down to softly kiss her. 

“Call me tomorrow after brunch.  Good night Sansa,” he rasped quietly.


End file.
